My beloved,
        The night is orange with the oppression of city against cloud.  I sit outside, staring blankly at the exposed brick of another building as mosquitos prey upon my distraction.  My heart cries out for you as I do - we ache together in the solitude of our nights.  I do not know of the future, for all I feel is the cold knife of your absence.  All I own is hope, hope in the anguish I hold, the longing that serves as proof of the intensity of our love.  Though I know we will be together soon, I hold our nightly funeral, guarding our ashes and awaiting our ressurection.  This death that is worse than death consumes me, yet day forces my face to change into one of complicity.  If those who surround me could only feel how much I yearn for you, they would leave me silently by our tomb. However, I stand alone, a woman with her eyes upon the horizon, searching always for her sailor.  I touch the Atlantic with the knowledge that it is the only obstacle that stands between us, and embrace it as a friend rather than a rival to be conquered.  Soon, this sea will deliver me into your arms, and soon I will no longer serve as sentinel to our funeral pyre.  Your hand will touch my shoulder, awakening me from this reverie, a long-forgotten dream of the past.

In her,
nature

a seed
planted by her mother
one
she wouldn’t feel
until the first
of womanhood

inside of her chest
in bloom
a well of gratefulness
a rooted inner compass
a quiet
but awakened
awareness

a feeling
to trust

but no substitute for love

but enough

enough to show her
it was possible
how sweltering heat
could be rainfall
how seasons
and time
could be here
and gone

the world
was waiting

the sun
held all aglow

accountable
to living
expected not to shy away
when she herself
was giving
"Omit outwards",
she said
"Radiate like me
attend to your senses
let wind be a tide
to rush against your skin
to rub the nape of the neck
to cool the temper of your breath
let my darling,
grass
be a place to rest
climb up
on the shoulders of trees
or just
sit beside her
and feel herstory
firm
beneath your feet
foundation
for every path
for every choice
you chose to walk

and listen
to the silence
as night begins to fall
go to sleep feeling
the day was but a dream
everything sings in you now
your heart is wild
and beating
and all the world
is a mirror
of that inner feeling
where she finds
in her,
nature
is breathing.
-
July 24th, 2013
(a poem inspired by the title of a writers group I am in. )

He harvests;
                     The beautiful chaos of her curiosity ~
                                                               ­                  as an unblemished apple falls...      
                                                           ­                   for equal measures of sugar & spice.


                                                       ­                                                  ♥

delicately her wings did flutter
o'er the colorful flowerbeds